


Bend and Break

by indigo_carter



Series: Supernatural Smut [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:32:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_carter/pseuds/indigo_carter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: sophiathemostfabulous Could u write one where the reader is cut and bruised up and has a few broken ribs and is wrapped in bandages but dean tells her he has a guilty kink for bandages and injured girls but the reader obliges to her baby, even though it hurts so dean cuddles with the reader afterwards but was worried about hurting her the whole time</p><p>100 kinks: #70</p><p>Character: Dean</p><p>Author: Frankie (spnsmutscribe)</p><p>Reader Gender: Female</p><p>Word Count: 2,200+</p><p>Warnings: Mention of blood and gore, reference to violence and injury, wound!kink, fucking gentle sex (genuinely don’t know if that’s a problem), low-self-esteem (Dean)</p><p>A/N: This almost wrote itself. As such, I apologise for any mistakes! Also this got strangely sad midway through…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bend and Break

_The knife came curving through the air faster than you could move and, with painful clarity, you followed its trajectory straight into your side. It didn’t stop there – your cry of anguish spilled from your lips before you could stop it, and a hail of bullets buried themselves in the wooden wall behind you, miraculously only one finding its mark, penetrating your thigh and thudding into the beam. You didn’t remember much after that, only Dean finding you and splashing cold water on your face, his complexion ashen as he took in the knife buried to the hilt in your side, and the ugly hole ripped through your leg._

“Y/N?” Dean’s anxious voice sounded dull in your head, like it was making its way through cotton wool to reach your ears. “Y/N, can you hear me?” You let out a piteous meow of pain and heard his relieved intake of breath as your ears cleared. “We’ve patched you up, darlin’, Cas isn’t answering my fuckin’ prayers or I’d’ve had him put you back together.” His deep voice was ragged with strain, and you peered at him blearily. Clearing your desert-dry throat, you whispered at him.

“Water?” It came out hopeful if scratchy, and he grinned, before presenting you with a glass of cool water complete with straw.

“What d’ya think, beside service, no less.” He winked at you as you sipped at your water gratefully.

“Where are we?” Your voice was coming back to you, and you wriggled into a marginally more upright position, wincing as you did so.

“Bunker. Called in a few favours, few debts. Crowley was really pissed off to hear you’d been hurt so he zapped us home. He said to tell you he’d offer you a one-time-only deal which involved no hell hounds if we thought you were going to die. I guessed you’d probably reject it out of hand, but it was kind of him to offer. In his own way.” You smirked, the knowledge at the king of hell was worried about you filling you with a bizarre satisfaction. Peering around you, it began to sink in that you weren’t in your own room.

“Dean…”

“Yes?”

“Why am I in your bed?”

“Ah…” He ruddy colour filled his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Wanted you close to me.” You frowned, thoroughly bemused. You’d lived with the Winchesters for a few years, since a hunt-gone-wrong when they’d needed your help cornering a particularly nasty spirit. Nothing had ever happened between any of you, and you’d pushed back any semblance of feeling you may have had for Dean when you realised his tendency for one night stands.

“And did you…call me…darling?”

“Shit.” You blinked at him, tiredness flooding your limbs.

“I’m too tired for guessing games, Dean. Spill.”

“I…” He looked terrified, like a cornered fox, all eyes and fear.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Just…tell me what’s going on, please?” He took a deep breath and moved away from you, locking his eyes on your loosely curled fist on the comforter.

“I always knew I liked you, Y/N, but I figured you wouldn’t like me so I didn’t do anything about it. And then I saw you slumped against that wall with a knife stuck in you and a bullet hole in your leg and I was beside myself worryin’ and Sam was a fuckin’ bitch about it and…I told him to eff off so I could look after you by myself.”

“What…exactly…was Sam being a bitch about?” You kept your tone soft and even, trying not to show the excitement thrumming through you. Adrenaline dimmed the pain echoing in your veins, and you pulled yourself into a vague sitting position.

“Me. I…said stuff when I thought you were gonna die.”

“Stuff?” His eyes dropped to the floor and his shoulders rose into a defensive stance.

“I said you couldn’t die on me ‘cause I fuckin’ love you, ok?” He hissed it, a note of frustration underlying his confession, and your heart ached.

“Dean.” It was a whisper. “Dean, come here please. I’d come over there, but I don’t think I’d make it.” You giggled slightly on the last word and he glanced at you briefly, his self-loathing glowing in his eyes, before he headed over to you. When he was close enough, you caught hold of his hand and tugged him onto the bed. He sat, hands in his lap, eyes fixed on a frayed hole in the knee of his jeans. “Dean, look at me.” It was a gentle command, and you reached a hand out to touch his face and turn his head to look at you. “Dean…you’re not alone in how you feel…” You kept your hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. His eyes flicked up to meet yours and you smiled past the lump in your throat. “’Cause I…love you too.” His mouth fell open and a strangled noise passed his lips. “How long’s it been since you said that, Dean? To a person, not a thing.”

“I was four. Last time it counted.” It was a brief, curt answer, and it made your heart bleed.

“How long’s it been since someone told you they love you?”

“Sam said it when he was drugged a few years back.” His voice was strangely devoid of emotion, and you caught hold of his hands, making a token tugging motion without moving your side any more than necessary.

“I will say it, Dean. I will say it and mean it. I will make up for all those years. If you’ll let me.” A strange look dawned in his eyes and he shifted closer to you, his hands resting on either side of your thighs.

“You’re not fucking with me?”

“I’d never fuck with you about this, Dean.” You took a deep breath and looked directly at him. “I’ve been pretending I don’t for too long in case you didn’t feel the same. I’m not hiding any more. I love you, and that’s the end of it.”

“’Ve you too.” Abruptly, his face was buried in your neck and the words were muffled, but the sentiment was so strong you felt tears pool in your eyes. You carefully lifted your arms and wrapped them around him. You stayed that way for a while, heads pressed together, your arms around him, his arms supporting his weight above you. Eventually, you shifted, pressing kisses to his temple, his cheek, his jaw, until he moved and met your lips with his. It started gentle, but deepened almost instantly, his tongue probing the seam of your lips until you allowed him entrance, your tongues exploring each other. Eventually surfacing for air, Dean settled next to you on the bed, his hands stroking your bandages under the covers.

“You ok?” You whispered it, your head resting on his shoulder, his cheek on the top of your head.

“Uhh, yeah.” He sounded uncertain, and you ran your hand down his chest, stopping above his belt and stroking his belly.

“You sure?”

“It’s kinda hot seeing you all bandaged up. Makes you look like the roughed-up, badass hunter you are. Makes me wanna protect you at the same time…want to take care of you.” Roughness entered his voice as his fingers brushed over your abdomen, between your bandage and your panties.

“Then do it.” Lust crept into your voice despite your injuries, and you let your hand slip over his belt to the bulge in his jeans. Giving it a playful squeeze, you nuzzled his neck. “I won’t break, Dean, and I’ll say if it hurts.”

“You sure? I don’t want our first time to be ruined because I couldn’t keep it in my pants ‘til you were healed.”

“I’m sure, I promise. I’ve waited for you, Dean.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before sliding from the bed and shedding everything except his boxers, his cock already pressing the fabric outward. You grinned and licked your lips, beckoning him back into bed. He slid between the sheets, pressing himself against your uninjured side, his body fitting against yours perfectly. His hands ran over your tummy, pushing the tank top he and Sam had dressed you in up, and you realised how little you were wearing; they’d clearly cleaned you up in your underwear and decided the best they could do was dress you in a tank and a pair of panties then put you into bed. He made short work of your top, pulling you impossibly close to him and kneading your breasts, tweaking your nipples until you were a gasping, soaked mess in his arms. Frustratingly slowly, one hand snaked its way down your belly, tracing over your bandages with reverence, before dipping inside your panties and stroking over your mound. The slight friction had your hips bucking up involuntarily, a cry of pain escaping your lips.

“Baby?” He moved his hands away, raising up to look at you.

“Don’t think I’ll be moving much this time, looks like you’ll be doing all the hard work.” You winked at him. “I’m fine, please don’t stop.” He settled down beside you again, his hands returning to your body. The hand inside your panties pressed against your core, the friction easing but intensifying your need for him, and you groaned, forcing yourself to keep your hips still. His fingers parted your labia, running through your dripping folds, circling your entrance once before sliding up to rub agonisingly lightly over your clit. “Don’t be a fucking tease, Dean.” You ground out between moans, your hand seeking the hardness of his cock inside his boxers, rubbing the ball of your thumb over his tip before fisting him and sliding down his own length. He growled into your shoulder and pressed one calloused finger inside. You gasped as he set a swift pace, his fingers seeking your sweet spots, learning what you liked and implementing it with overwhelming accuracy. You were learning yourself; learning which way to twist and stroke and pump his cock to make him release the filthiest sounds you’d ever heard.

“Christ, I need you, Y/N.” It was panted, moaned, and your walls contracted around his fingers at the sound of his want.

“Condom?” He lifted himself from you, pulling off boxers and panties, then reaching into the bedside cabinet and swiftly rolling the condom onto his length before kneeling between your thighs and gazing down at you.

“You sure?”

“Please, Dean…” You begged, hating the pleading tone in your voice, but loving the effect it had on him. He reached down, angling the blunt head of his cock to your entrance, and his lips met yours as he pressed inside. He took it slowly, and it took everything in you not to thrust up and sheath him – only the memory of your wound stopped you. “Dean…” You whined, your hands grasping his ass and pulling him closer. “Need you…” He growled in response, pulling back and pushing forward. He started gently, reluctant to give in to what you both needed for fear of hurting you, but your wriggling hips and grasping hands had him cursing.

“Fuck…just…say if it hurts.”

“I will.” He dropped his head to your shoulder, gripped your hip with one hand and increased his pace, each thrust meeting your sweet spots, his pelvis rubbing against your clit with each movement, and embarrassingly fast you felt yourself approaching the edge.

“Cum.” He growled it, and that was enough, your muscles tensed, but the howling pleasure overwhelmed the screaming pain from your wounds. He fucked you through your orgasm, hands smoothing over your arms, before increasing his pace again, each time pulling nearly all the way out before pumping back in. He reared up, eyes trailing over your body as he fucked into you, watching himself slide in and out of your tight pussy, and your eyes followed his. It was a strangely arousing sight, both seeing and feeling the effects of his body on yours, and pleasure erupted through you again. You fell over the edge crying his name, and he followed swiftly, his throbbing cock spilling his warmth inside you. He collapsed, catching himself on his elbows, and his lips searched for yours. You met them willingly, and wrapped your arms around his back until he pulled out.

“Gotta go get rid of this and then I’ll be back to cuddle.” He winked at you, wrapping a towel around his waist before tucking the sheets around you, kissing you once more, and then making a break for the bathroom. Happiness filled you, but the sharp edge of pain in your side and thigh reminded you that you were still broken. He returned quickly, shed the towel on the floor, and crept back into bed, moulding himself to you, wrapping his limbs around you and holding you to him. “I think I might have found a previously-unknown kink…” He muttered, pressing kisses to your shoulder.

“And what’s that?” Your turned your head to look at him curiously.

“Badass girls getting beat up and needing help. Or…just this badass girl.” He squeezed you gently and you laughed lightly.

“I always need you, Dean.”


End file.
